


Old Cassettes And Cigarettes (or, James Diamond's Rules On How To Make It In LA)

by skyline



Series: How To Tame Your Hockey Player [3]
Category: Big Time Rush (TV)
Genre: Busking, Coffee Shops, Curtain Fic, M/M, mostly schmoop, puppy, slight internalized homphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: This thing, it’s just a date. In a series of dates. That probably won’t go anywhere. And even if it does, girlfriends don’t eat up all of a person’s time.It’s not like he and Kendall won’t have beer and movie night every Thursday, or like James isn’t going to obnoxiously pop by the café whenever he has a spare minute, or like they won’t throw anymore impromptu concerts in the park.Or, like they won’t live together.They’ll keep on keeping on, best friends for life, so what's the problem?





	Old Cassettes And Cigarettes (or, James Diamond's Rules On How To Make It In LA)

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, old, old, old fic that has never quite made it out of my oneshot file. 
> 
> This was always intended to be the companion piece to How To Tame Your Hockey Player, but you don't have to read that to understand this. (The gist is Logan/Dak like to face-smush.) There's also a Christmas oneshot in this series, but you don't actually have to read that ever. This (should) stand alone well.
> 
> Enjoy!

1\. _Fake It_

Kendall Knight is the biggest jackass in the history of jackasses.

He yanks his comforter up to his chin, because he has made the executive decision to sleep in until noon on this fine Saturday morning, and it would take the Wild’s entire defensive line, plus his mother to make him change his mind.

James yanks right on back, completely bullhead and verging on whiney, because this is _so not_ going to work for him.

“I want to go surfing, Kendall.”

“Go,” Kendall mumbles back, waving one hand in the air, probably in the hopes that maybe he’ll land a fortuitous smack on James’s nose. “’Don’ need me.”

“I do need you,” James sulks, and Kendall doesn’t even crack an eyelid to see that James is breaking out the puppy dog pout, “Who else is going to appreciate my awesome?”

“Your awesome is super awesome, James,” Kendall says gratifyingly, nuzzling against his pillow. “But sleep is also awesome.”

“But, it’s a beautiful day,” James declares proudly, like he’s the one who made the sun shine so bright.

He feels like he did. He was willing great weather into existence before bed last night.

Kendall turns over, snuggling deeper in his covers. “Yipee.”

“Dude, seriously, get your lazy ass out of bed.”

“Lazy?” Kendall’s eyes slit open. “You may have forgotten, but one of us was working until midnight. It’s like, seven.”

“Exactly. That’s like, seven hours of sleep.”

“I am a growing adult. I need at least ten,” Kendall argues, but James has already got a hold of the blanket and he’s yanking it further from Kendall’s reach.

“Come on, Kendall, I need you to come for moral support.”

“Moral support?”

“You can do the wave, Kendall. No one does the wave like you,” James says, smiling bright. Sure, it’s mostly teeth, but this is another thing he’s willing into existence. Calming, happy vibes.

Calming, happy vibes, that will get Kendall out of bed.  

“I can’t do the wave with myself, James.”

“You could try.”

“Not at seven am, I can’t.” Kendall stubbornly refuses to budge, and James just as stubbornly refuses to relinquish his grasp on the blanket. As far as impasses go, this is one that they’re both entirely too used to.

Moving in together seemed like such a good idea, once, a long time ago. Back when the band was first breaking up and Kendall had no idea what to do with his life, going forward, and James was drifting from audition to audition with aimless enthusiasm.

James is fun. James is exciting. But now Kendall’s acting like maybe James is _too much_ fun and excitement. Which is way harsh, right? James gets that his bestest best friend is trying to balance his course load at his online university and his job as a barista, so he can do the important things, like pay their rent. But James is trying to do important things too. James is trying to _surf_.

“Kendaaaall,” James whines again.

“I can’t go to the beach,” Kendall reasons sleepily. “It’s too far away.”

“It’s there.” James jabs his index finger at Kendall’s wall, indicating the seascape that sits right on the other side of it. “Right there. You don’t even have to change out of your pajamas.”

“No. No. That is too much sense for this early hour. I need to sleep.”

James takes the index finger pointing at the wall and uses it to poke Kendall. Repeatedly. Obnoxiously.

Kendall says, “This is totally uncalled for.”

James keeps poking him.

He adds, “I really wish you’d stop that,” the words tumbling funnily from his mouth, because now James is poking him in the cheek.

“No can do, buddy,” James wheedles. “Get up.”

“Nngh.”

“Please?” James tries one more time.

Kendall buries his head in his pillow. Then he lifts it slowly, groggily. “I want you to know that I despise you. Entirely.”

“No you don’t,” James chirps back.

“No,” Kendall agrees, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I don’t.”

They’ve lived together for a year and a half.

It wasn’t their first choice, but. They thought it was a good one. James refused to leave the west coast and retreat back into his mother’s sphere of influence. And Kendall had no idea what to do, or where to go. Gustavo cast them out into the cold.

He wouldn’t burden his mom. She’d sold the house in Minnesota a few years back, packing everything into a tiny apartment with Katie once 2J began to feel cramped.

Relying on each other was instinct. It wasn’t supposed to become something either of them would regret.

There’s this discordance now, the snap of guitar string, and it’s making James anxious. He’s got jingle-jangle nerves and no way to settle them.

He goes to the beach without Kendall and wipes out, twice.

The Pacific is icy this early in the morning, the low-hanging fog lethargic on the water. The waves are good though, easy rides, despite his falls, and they clear James’s head.

He drags his surfboard back up the beach and leans it against the stucco that coats their building.

His wetsuit makes a squicking sound when he shucks it. He leaves it in a pile on the ground; he’ll hose it down once the fog burns off the ocean.

That fog clings to his skin, thick, cloying, scented with sea salt and jasmine. He feels like he’s moving in slow motion, but it might be his thoughts, bogging him down. Which isn’t something James likes much; thinking.

Used to be, Kendall liked watching him surf. Used to be, Kendall liked spending all his time with James. Now, Kendall’s been working late at the shop, staying out at the library. He wants his stupid liberal arts degree, even though he has fuck all idea of what he’s going to do with it. And James doesn’t know what he’s done wrong.

He tries not to stop all those mind words, brushes his hand lovingly over his board.

There’s sand on the sidewalk. There’s sand sticking between his toes. James loves it.

He hums to himself, providing himself a backtrack while he makes his way up the stairs, into the kitchen, starts to put together a protein shake. He pets the dog and checks his bowl, but Optimus hasn’t been especially thirsty this morning. He’s probably curled up at the foot of Kendall’s bed. He likes it there.

So James downs the thick goop of his shake and then starts in on the laundry pile, still composing this drawn out tune that he’ll never do anything with, a virtual sonata.

There’s a lot of laundry, because Kendall is the direct opposite of domestic. Left to his own devices, most of his meals are takeout, and he does the wash once every three weeks, if that. He tried hiring a lady to take care of that kind of thing once, but Kendall draws the line at some stranger touching his underwear, so James told him to just give it up and has taken full control of the chore.

Hands deep in Kendall’s underwear, and that discordance is still there. Weird.

He hears Kendall finally drag himself up, stumble over to the coffee machine with Optimus dogging his heels. There’s the low murmur of Kendall’s voice as he baby-talks the dog.

He thinks James doesn’t know how much he spoils him, but James does. James has always known what a big softie the kid is. There’s not much they _don’t_ know about each other, after all these years.

Leaving the laundry room, he heads back outside to hose down his wetsuit before it rots. When he’s done, five minutes past and toes soaking wet, shoulders crisp from the sun, he goes back up. Kendall’s still in the kitchen, the coffee pot happily burbling.

James settles himself in the overstuffed chair in the corner. It’s tilted so that he can see the steady roll of the waves, hear their thunder, even through the walls. James watches it, calmed, but he also watches Kendall pour out of the corner of his eye.

He knows better than to talk until Kendall’s fully caffeinated.

Their living room is homey, although cramped, edging onto the kitchen. They’ve got a bunch of artsy prints on their wall, snapshots that Kendall took in his second semester for Photography 101.

The Mojave in shades of brown and gold, desert scrub and the outline of a lizard, scurrying home. Joshua Tree, with its strange-headed branches, starlit and ghostly. The sinuous curves of the PCH wrapping up Big Sur; the murky red depths of the Grand Canyon; and a framed candid in black and white, the four of them hunched over their star at the Walk of Fame.

Carlos’s tongue hangs out, goofy, like a dog, and Logan is refusing to touch the sidewalk on account of _germs_. They look really happy.

James smiles every time he looks at it.

Kendall’s throat bobs as he sips at his coffee, staring out the kitchen windows, into the apartment complex’s courtyard. There’s not much there – Spanish tile and an old stone fountain that James has never seen working, a few potted plants – but Kendall appears content to survey it all, this tiny kingdom.

It makes James oddly sad.

Kendall has always been exceptional at a lot of things. Which is the problem. Without hockey, without singing, he’s lost. James knows he can be great at something, but Kendall has no fucking clue what he wants that something to do. So he makes coffee for locals and tourists, smiles with clenched teeth and spends the rest of his time pursuing his stupid degree in something he shows little to no interest in most of the time.

He claims he’s got everything together, but James isn’t stupid. He’s not, even if everyone and their mother thinks he is.

Kendall knows, at least. He should know.

But maybe Kendall’s forgotten everything except for how aimless he feels. Kendall’s forgotten a lot of things, like the fearless, gung-ho teenager he once was, the one James fully adored. He’s metamorphosed into this guitar-playing, barista hippie-fake with Kendall’s dimples. He doesn’t even complain when James puts quinoa on the grocery list anymore.

The guitar-playing part of new!Kendall isn’t so bad.

They’ve had some quiet nights on the balcony, Kendall strumming up nonsense songs while James sips low-calorie beer. The melody would fill the spaces between the roar of the ocean, and it’s always as perfect an evening as James can imagine. Still.

James refuses to be like Kendall, refuses to be so lost. Every morning, after a few waves, fresh from the shower, he gathers up his headshots and hits the city. He’s landed a few commercials. Some guest spots. BTR makes it easier…and harder. He has notoriety, but he’s constantly typecast. And there’s a sense of malaise that always surrounds the careers of teen heartthrobs who’ve had their day.

James won’t be able to hog the spotlight again until he can prove, beyond any doubt, that he deserves it back. And he will. He’s got an audition lined up at noon, and a hot yoga session with Camille and her trainer at one.

But ‘til then, nothing but time. He watches, warily, as Kendall makes his way out of the kitchen, plopping into the sofa, Optimus nesting onto his toes. Neither of them say anything for a few minutes, feeling out the silence.

Then:

“I’ve been thinking,” Kendall says, absently stroking over Optimus’s soft, floppy ears.

“Sounds dangerous.”

Kendall has bags, thick and dark, beneath the waterline of his lashes. He has a tiny line forming along the crease of his mouth, deepening with age. It makes him look distinguished and exhausted all at once.

James wants to push his thumb over it, smoothing the wrinkle and all the time and history that caused it away.

He doesn’t, though, because he’s been trying to work on his boundaries. He’s heard those help some relationships. Boundaries.

The smile Kendall cracks is halfway to a grimace. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“Boring,” James says. He’s good at sticking to a script.

“Boring,” Kendall agrees wryly. “Wouldn’t want that. So I’ve been thinking…”

James waits. Optimus snuffles against Kendall’s jean-clad thigh. The refrigerator hums lowly. But all Kendall does is study James’s face, his gaze weighty, fond and troubled all at once.

“You’re really keeping me in suspense here, dude.”

Something about that jolts Kendall out of his headspace, clears his expression and makes him say, “You know what? Never mind.”

The reversal doesn’t even give him whiplash, because this – this is what it’s been like between them the last few months, with Kendall distracted and none of their conversations clicking like they should.

“O-kay…you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Kendall replies firmly. “Wanna go make some fast cash?”

Does he ever.

* * *

 

 

2\. _Always Keep Things Light_

This is the other part about Kendall’s guitar that James has never minded.

They started playing by the beach for fun. Letting the instrument breathe that fresh, salty air, letting the sunlight and cool breeze aerate their brains. It wasn’t any kind of money making scheme.

But, turns out, people will pay to witness two attractive, talented men sing. Not a lot. Pennies, mostly, enough to buy a can of wet food for Optimus if they’re lucky.

The real bonus is performing for people again. It’s a special kind of high; one James never going to stop chasing.

And now that they’ve been at this for a while, they both have learned to have fun with it. Kendall dabbles with songwriting, grabs lyrics from the ether and strings them into a tune. James will harmonize and dance, or do a cover he’s made his own.

Today, Kendall whips up something fast, something that James can move to. James jumps on top of the low railing separating the boardwalk from the beach, rolling his hips luridly for the girls, and Kendall has to stumble forward, forcing a charming grin and keeping up the beat.

He hates it when James flirts, and James knows that, but he can’t always help himself. It’s like breathing, and it’s like living, and he loves the way it makes him feel.

Spot-lit, the center of attention.

The focal point of everyone’s desire.

Yeah, he likes to flirt.

He likes _girls_ , every bit as much as he always has.

He brings them home, sometimes. Kendall is good at making himself scarce when that happens. He knows how to dreadful thin the walls are, knows that if he wanted to, he could hear James come.

He doesn’t want to.

He already has.

That’s what happens when you and your friends live in each other’s pockets all the time, when you have no borders, when you’re brothers. That’s what happens, except for how it’s not, except for how it’s really only ever happened with James and Kendall.

And man. James dwells on it, sometimes.

He’s seen Kendall kiss girls before, of course, in the hallways at school, back when James barely ever stopped finding his own pretty lips to touch. At Rocque Records, or the Palmwoods, when Jo would smile all lovely and pass Kendall his lunch. He saw him kiss Lucy a few times, once she’d broken James’s heart. And there’s been a few since, girls to kiss and girls to screw.

James has heard and seen that, too, seen Kendall come. Heck, walked in on him more than once. This is the part that sticks, the part he can’t get over. He’s never quite been able to get the sounds Kendall makes, the way he looks, out of his head, this mindfuck that never relents. He twists himself into bendy shapes, trying to outthink the real reason it haunts his dreams at night, has him waking sweaty and hard, this age-old memory that he’s never managed to shake.

Friendship means the world to James. He can’t – he won’t -mess everything up.

But.

He thinks that Kendall’s problem is that he’s got this way of loving girls who are the exact opposite of what James would pick for him. They’re consistently sweet, when what Kendall needs is someone feisty. They let him play the knight gallant when what he really needs is to be unlaced.

He’s so uptight, such a total control freak.

What Kendall needs most, James has decided, is for someone to take the reins. To take him apart.

James could do that for him. To him.

If he swung that way.

If Kendall swung that way.

The thought is lazy, idle. James bats it away with zero introspection.

The sun is bright, and Kendall’s here, glaring at a few of the women who are watching James flirt.

James keeps dancing, singing, where appropriate. He stops thinking about how Kendall’s floundering, doesn’t focus on sex or the way that Kendall touches anyone.

They make five bucks that morning.

James heads off to his audition, unease forgotten. They’re okay.

He doesn’t know why he’s been so convinced they’re not.

* * *

 

3\. _Don’t Look Back_

The audition goes fine, and yoga’s great. He loves catching up with Camille. Ever since her career skyrocketed, she’s ended up with the best gossip. She’s got a lot, today. Her last movie filmed in Reykjavik for eight months, so it’s been a while since they’ve caught up.

After, James hits Whole Foods. He picks up corn salsa and a bag of avocados, almond milk, protein powder, and a six pack of steaks.

Kendall gets grumpy without a steady influx of red meat. At least this way, James can make sure it’s lean, grass-fed and antibiotic free.

He pays and heads home, an old playlist blasting in his car.

When they were kids, Kendall made him mixtapes. CDs, actually, carefully burned and marked in his hurried scrawl, with punchy titles.

They weren’t only for James. Kendall made them for the whole team. Even when he wasn’t captain, he always knew how to pump everyone up.

James listened to those things until they cracked, every rainbow scratch that developed as they aged as dear to him as the music itself. He never stopped and asked why they meant so much, he merely transferred them onto his iPod once he got one.

Now, they’re in carefully ordered playlists, and that’s what he’s blasting now, all the way home.

He parks in the lot, skimmed with sand. It crunches under his tires and shoes. He hefts three reusable bags (branded with all sorts of things; the Rocque Records logo among them) on each arm and starts the long walk up to their place.

When he manages to get the door open, through a complex series of moves that mostly involve using his elbow and knee, he finds that Kendall’s already home. Optimus bounds off Kendall’s lap, crouching low, in attack mode. Obediently, James drops all of his bags and gets down on all fours to play.

Kendall smiles crookedly at them both, for a beat. Then he stands and starts carting the grocery bags into the kitchen. “Have you heard?”

“Heard what?” James grunts, Optimus bouncing paws first off his chest. “Can you throw the kettle on?”

“Sure.” Kendall pauses, and James can hear him bustling around in the kitchen, opening drawers in the fridge and filling the tea pot with water. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he comes back into the living room, where James is squarely defeated by forty pounds of fluff. He’s on his back being attacked with tiny, kiss-like licks. “So you haven’t seen this?”

Kendall retrieves a magazine off the arm of the sofa, glossy cover declaring it as a girl’s fashion rag. James wrinkles his nose. “Where did you get that?”

“Mercedes,” Kendall says shortly.

“You still talk to Mercedes?”

“Yeah.” Kendall shifts, uncomfortable. “She’s pretty awesome underneath all the _shallow_. Funny…and actually pretty smart…so.”

Something about his words makes the hair on the back of James’s neck stand up. He pushes the dog gently off of his stomach and asks, “Do you like her?”

Kendall rolls his eyes. “ _No_. I mean. I don’t know. She’s still with Guitar Dude, so it doesn’t really matter.”

There’s a hollowness in his denial. Frowning, James says, “It sounds like you like her.”

“We’re friends. Can you go back to nosing around Logan’s love life?” Kendall matches James’s expression, grumpier now. “He’s so much more receptive to that kind of thing.”

“Logan doesn’t have a love life. He has a Dak, and it is boring.” James crosses his arms. “One day soon, they’re going to bang, and it’s probably going to be exhaustingly tedious sex, and no one will be surprised. The end.”

“I hate to spoil your fun,” Kendall says, “But I’m pretty sure that day has come and gone.”

“What do you know?” James asks, scandalized.

Kendall keeps his lips sealed. Which is probably for the best. James does not want to know about Logan and Dak’s love life. Gross.

He asks, “So what’s in the magazine? Tips for the perfect summer glow?”

“Right. This.” Kendall shuffles across the carpet for a second, Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he declares, “They’re writing blind items about us!”

His voice pitches up as he shoves the magazine toward James, and his face pales at least three shades.

The last time James saw Kendall this peaked and strained, his butt was primed to be on reality TV.

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” He unfolds the paper. “I’m sure it’s-“

Well. It’s not nothing.

James mumbles the words to himself. Former bandmates. Sharing space. All that space going away. Unrealized feelings. The piece goes as far as to say they’ve been fucking on the reg for months, and James’s cheeks tint despite himself.

Hot in his throat, he informs Kendall, “This isn’t so bad.”

“Are we reading the same thing? James. This could ruin everything.”

“How?” James demands, climbing off his knees. Optimus bounds around him, still wanting to play. “What could this possibly ruin? Your promising career? My auditions? Us?”

Kendall winces.

James steps in close, their chests bumping. He can taste Kendall’s slight, panicked breaths. “Tell me, man. Is this going to ruin us?”

“No,” Kendall admits. He meets James’s eyes. His own are that crazy clear green that shallow water gets when it’s hit with sunshine.

His eyes are James’s favorite color.

“No,” James agrees softly, brushing his knuckles against the curve of Kendall’s cheek.

He lingers far longer than he means to. When the kettle screams, James drops his hand like he’s been burned.

Now he’s the one who’s being weird.

“I should…”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Kendall nods, more firmly the second time he does it. “Dandelion tea.”

If Kendall’s being rude about his health food again, it’s probably a good sign.

“It’s not entirely dandelion,” James objects, scurrying to the kettle. He turns off the stove and grabs the nearest mug – an odd, diamond shaped lump, with his mom’s face on the side.

Carefully, James scoops a spoonful of loose leaf into the strainer. It’s one of those rubber ones that clings to the side of the mug. It looks like a llama, and he can’t remember if Logan gifted it to him or Kendall once upon a time.

In the living room, Kendall heaves himself onto the beanbag chair. His shoulders are slumped, a vaguely defeated look that doesn’t suit him at all.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” James calls, stirring a splash of almond milk into his concoction. It turns a satisfying cloudy brown.

He cups the mug between his palms and carries it towards the couch. Kendall frowns. “How can you drink that?”

“It’s good.”

“It’s dirt water.”

James makes a rude noise. “So. Movie?”

“I can’t. Actually, I was about to head out.”

James looks him up and down. He’s wearing his _formal_ flannel, with minimal holes.

“Hot date?” James jokes, snorting into his tea.

“Kinda.”

It’s a punch to the gut, and James recoils from it, sloshing tea and everything.

“Kinda?” He tries to recover, voice more than a little falsetto. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Kendall gives him A Look. “You’re being a freak.”

“No, I’m – no I’m not.” James steadies his still trembling mug. “I’m being supportive.”

Kendall wrinkles his nose. “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?” James squeaks.

“Get overly involved in my love life. It’s creepy.”

“Creepy!” He’s outraged. Absolutely outraged. “I am not creepy!”

Kendall pinches his forefinger and thumb together. “Little bit.”

“You! You’re changing the subject!”

“It’s still not Mercedes, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not _worried_ about anything. You’re my bud. I’m being a bud.” He prompts, “Come on. Lay it on me.”

Shrugging, Kendall says, “Her name’s – CJ.” The hesitation between his words, like he doesn’t want to share this with James, hurts. But he keeps going, “She works with me. She’s cute.”

Before he can really process his words, James says, “I don’t know, man. Should you be seeing someone you work with? Doesn’t that make things awkward?”

Kendall reddens. “Why don’t you let me worry about that?”

“Yeah. Sure. Sorry,” James says. “Have you guys been out before?”

He knows what it looks like when his best friend hedges. “Once or twice.”

Kendall’s lying. James doesn’t know why, but Kendall has definite lying face. He’s gone out with this girl more than _once or twice_.

And James had no idea.

Maybe that’s what this dissonance between them is; they’re losing touch with each other. They’re drifting apart. And James, being James, has no idea how to deal with that. He does what he usually does.

He gets jealous that some bitch is trying to steal Kendall away.

He must look stricken. There’s no other way to account for how Kendall steps into his space and tentatively, touches his shoulder. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Duh. Obviously. I’m obviously okay,” James says, and without letting himself really wonder why, he closes the distance between him, wrapping Kendall up in his arms. It’s kind of a hug, kind of a shoulder clap, kind of an I’ll-miss-you brush of cheeks that absolutely is not what bros do.

“Have a good time, man.”

“Yep.” Kendall speaks into James’s throat, mouth grazing skin. “I’ll definitely…do that.”

He pulls back a bit, and unconsciously, James runs a thumb along Kendall’s eyebrow, “You really should get someone to shape these.”

He does it again, thumbing the shape of his bone and then the hollow beneath Kendall’s eyes. Then, Kendall’s lips move to catch at the edge of James’s hesitant smile.

It’s a gentle push that James can’t help but turn into.

He captures Kendall’s mouth against his for a brief, searing moment. Kendall gasps against him, and James’s knees nearly buckle. He digs his fingers into Kendall’s shoulders and deepens the kiss, tongues into Kendall’s heat. Kendall rolls with it, sighing, moving against James like he can’t get enough of the way he tastes.

His tongue darts out, and what started as tender takes on a ragged, desperate edge.

Their hips brush briefly, and then again.

Kendall’s got a hand wrapped around the back of James’s neck, pinning him, like maybe if he holds James there, they can become a single person. James wants that, wants to stretch this moment out. It’s the most in-tune with each other they’ve been in months.

Maybe that’s why James reels back, gasping for oxygen and wanting, _needing_ , to see Kendall’s face. Kendall’s face, slack-jawed and uncomprehending. He looks a little bit wrecked, lost and afraid. There’s something in his expression, like giving in and fighting back all at once.

He’s waiting for James to say something, but for the life of him James doesn’t have any words.

So he leans back in.

Kendall drops his hands away from James’s body as if he’s been burned. James flinches.

Awkwardly, the two of them stumble back, away from each other.

“Erm,” Kendall starts.

“Um. I’ll…see you around, I guess,” and James isn’t sure what’s wrong with himself.

His pants feel tight in a way they weren’t five minutes ago. Kendall is discreetly adjusting himself under the guise of grabbing his stuff.

For his date.

The date he’s going on after James and he…

James is upset, but he can’t figure out why, because it’s not like he expects Kendall to stick around and make out with him. That was…it was a fluke. It had to be.

Heightened emotion and all that.

“Bye,” Kendall says, eyes on the ground. He doesn’t look back when the door swings shut behind him. And James knows that what he’s really upset about is that Kendall’s ditching him for the evening, which is silly.

It’s not like he’s not going to see Kendall all the time, still.

This thing, this date, it’s just a date. In a series of dates. That probably won’t go anywhere. And even if it does, girlfriends don’t eat up all of a person’s time. It’s not like he and Kendall won’t have beer and movie night every Thursday, or like James isn’t going to obnoxiously pop by the café whenever he has a spare minute, or like they won’t throw anymore impromptu concerts in the park.

Or you know, like they won’t live together.

They’ll keep on keeping on, best friends for life, so what the fuck is his issue?

James palms a hand over the front of his pants and then heads into his bedroom to jerk off.

* * *

 

4\. _Never Apologize_

The following morning, after James comes in from surfing, Kendall’s shuffling around the kitchen, making Optimus his bowl of wet food.

They’re both a little uncertain around each other, a bit tense, but not that much more than normal. So James asks how the date went, and Kendall says it was good. That should be it.

It’s not it.

It’s not like James stalks Kendall’s Scuttlebutter page. He’s not creepy, no matter what Kendall says. He only wants to see what this CJ girl looks like. But she’s not there, anywhere on his front page, and she’s not in his friend list. Not unless CJ is a 49-year-old woman named Carmen Jacinto, who does acupuncture in Silver Lake.

James feels like Kendall would have mentioned that.

Which means that James has to turn to something that borders on actual stalking. He leaves Kendall alone to baby Optimus. They’re curled up on the couch watching some romcom on Netflix that Kendall will completely deny viewing later. He offers James space next to him, but Optimus is taking up most of the real estate, and James has this mission anyway.

This mission to see CJ.

She’s pretty much what James expects of a barista at Kendall’s coffee shop. Fire engine red lips and big, plastic framed glasses and a messy topknot are the defining features of her face on his first look.

On his second, he notices the structure of her cheekbones and the roundness of her dark, doe eyes. He sees how sweet her smile is and notices the subtle jut of her clavicle. The absence of stubble, or James’s jawline, or well-tended muscle. All the things he normally expects appeal to Kendall, basically.

“What can I get you, hon?” she asks, more focused on the register than James.

That is, until he clears his throat and her head snaps up. She startles, staring at him for a long, fascinated second, which honestly happens to him a lot.

He knows he’s gorgeous.

Then she says, “I mean. Um.” She bites her lip and follows up with a firm, “Uh.”

“Hey,” James smiles, even though he doesn’t feel remotely happy. “Is Kendall around?”

He’s not. Obviously.

“Oh! No. He’s- you know Kendall?” CJ’s face heats, attractively.

James does his best to maintain whatever semblance of polite is on his face. This girl kissed his best friend last night. Kissed Kendall, after James kissed Kendall. Nausea turns his stomach. “I’m his-“

Friend? Former coworker? _James_?

“Roommate,” James settles on.

CJ lights up. “James! Kendall talks about you nonstop.”

She extends one tiny hand, and something about her clean, short fingernails reminds him of Jo. Her sunshine-fresh everything and the singular way she had about crushing Kendall’s heart, maybe.

“I’m CJ.”

“I know,” James says. He does not throw her a bone, or mention that Kendall talked about their date this morning, like it wasn’t killing James inside. Instead, he stops her delight before it can grow and points to her nametag.

Her face falls.

“Right.” She taps the plastic absently. “Kendall’s off today. He didn’t tell you?”

“Must have slipped my mind. Hey, can I get a soy latte?”

James knows he’s being a dick, but this girl automatically rubs him the wrong way. From her heart shaped face to the Dodgers crop top she’s wearing underneath her caffeine-splattered apron, he hates her. And she’s…mostly oblivious to it, it seems like.

She heads to the row of shiny, complicated coffee-making equipment that James wouldn’t be able to operate even if someone made him actually read the instruction manual. Easing a cup off the stack, she says, “I hope you’re not upset with me. It was a last minute ask – I need someone to fill the spot, and it seemed like kismet that Kendall was there.”

James makes a noncommittal noise, because he has no idea what incoherent nonsense this girl is spouting. She flicks a switch on the espresso machine, placing the cup underneath the dispenser. Then she pulls a carton of soy milk from under the counter, and pours it with a little too much focus.

It’s like she doesn’t want to meet James’s gaze when she continues, “He said he needed time to think about it. Do you- um. Do you know if he’s made a decision yet?”

This time, James shrugs, because _what_?

“It’s just that I have to know by the end of the week. The rent needs to get paid, and I’d hate to have to beg some rando from Craig’s list to fill the room.” CJ pauses, finally braving a glance at James. “But obviously, if you two are locked into your lease-“

“Wait, I’m sorry. Are you saying you…asked Kendall to move in with you?” James hates how thin his voice sounds, shrill and overwrought. This can’t be happening.

CJ lifts one shoulder, busy foaming the milk before she mixes it in with the coffee. “Yeah. You didn’t know?”

She sounds worried, like maybe that’s some kind of indicator of where Kendall’s head is at. Except James has no idea where Kendall’s head is at, because, “How long have you two been dating?”

CJ pulls the finished cup of coffee up onto the table, and caps it with flourish. “Two months? Gosh, wow, it’s been two months already. I know it’s soon to be taking such a big step, but I swear, this is totally a situational thing. My last roommate was a dick, backed out and left me with the bill. He’d have his own space, if that’s what he wants, or we can share.”

Flushing, she adds, “I’m desperate.”

Then she puts on a sunny smile and offers the coffee to James.

Stonily, he takes it. “I understand.”

It’s only then that CJ completely falters, realizing, “You really didn’t know, did you?”

“No,” he answers shortly.

“Shit. Forget I said anything. If Kendall hasn’t told you, then he can’t be seriously considering it. Which is fine! You guys have a good thing going.”

James frowns down at his latte. “I’m not so sure about that.”

* * *

_5\. Act Positive_

“I was thinking about visiting Katie and mom later,” Kendall announces when James stalks into the room, a frame from yet another romcom frozen on the TV scream. “Want to come?”

James doesn’t say anything.

Kendall rushes to fill the quiet, “I mean, I get if you don’t want to. We’d probably have to put out eighteen or so fires.”

He’s not wrong. Those two are always up to something.

“What?” James asks, tone stern enough that Optimus scampers for cover behind the couch, tail tucked between his legs. “You weren’t going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Kendall crosses his arms and shifts his legs off the couch so that James can sit down. “You’re scaring the dog,” he adds mildly.

“That you’re moving out?”

James sounds like he’s in pain. He is in pain, so that’s okay. He wants Kendall to hear it.

Kendall’s lips pinch together. “You talked to CJ.”

“Fuck yeah, I talked to CJ. And you know, man, how dare you?”

Holding up a hand, Kendall says, “Hey, it’s not like I said yes.”

“How am I even supposed to know what you said? You didn’t tell me. Hell, you didn’t even tell me about her. Who, apparently you’ve been hiding for all eternity? Because secret girlfriends, that’s cool.”

“James-“

“Why would you do that?”

Kendall slumps back against the arm of the sofa. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I hid it from you. I didn’t mean for it to go on this long. But you have to believe me, James. I haven’t answered her about the apartment.”

“Sure,” James scoffs.

Kendall stiffens. He never did like having his integrity questioned. “I haven’t. You honestly think I’d do that to you?”

It’s a challenge. James recognizes it in the squint at the edges of Kendall’s eyes and the square of his shoulders.

But it doesn’t matter. The two of them have been butting heads since they were in diapers. Now is no different. James walks straight into Kendall’s trap like it’s home.

“Give me one damn reason I should think different.”

And Kendall…deflates. He drops out of James’s airspace so fast that it’s dizzying. “I thought we were past this.”

Optimus’s tail thumps the ground. He’s figured out he’s not the one in trouble. James blinks, “Past what?”

“This! The fighting. The not-trusting each other. It’s so childish.”

“You’re childish,” James barks back, and in retrospect, it doesn’t really help.

Kendall says, “Yeah, I am. For believing we could change.”

He looks the way he did last night, after James kissed him; a combination of naked fear and exhaustion, resignation and fierceness. Like he’s encountered an unsolvable problem, and it’s everything he wants and hates all at once.

Come to think of it, that’s how Kendall always looks when he and James fight, but that only sinks in as Kendall marches down the hall and returns with a duffel bag shouldered on. Then he walks out the door.

“That’s it?” James gasps out, a little stunned.

He wanted to pick a fight. He didn’t want to drive his best friend away. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m going to CJ’s.” Kendall falters at the door. “Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing if we got some space.”

He might as well have knocked James’s teeth out, for the way James chokes on those words. On his own anger.

All of it.

“Maybe it is,” he grits back.

The gentle click of the door when Kendall leaves echoes for a long, long time afterwards.

* * *

 

6\. _Get To Know Yourself_

James wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.

He’s not sure why he’s shaken, but the tendrils of a nightmare cling to him, something he can’t quite remember but has him seriously freaked out.

He’s about to get up, to go annoy Kendall until he feels better about life, but then he remembers that he essentially has his own place now.

The room down the hall is empty, and the idea of it makes James lonely. Counting the Palmwoods, he’s lived with Kendall for close to seven years. And even back in Minnesota, Kendall was only a few houses down. There was never a night that James can remember where waking up and walking to wherever Kendall wasn’t an option; where he couldn’t throw stones at Kendall’s window or walk into Kendall’s room and burrow under the covers of his bed like he belonged there.

James is a full grown man-boy-thing now. He doesn’t need Kendall to elbow him in the side and tell him to stop being a pussy, breath stale from sleep but body warm and hair mussed in this completely adorable way.

James doesn’t need it, but he thinks maybe he wants it, and he’s not sure what to do with the realization.

He can’t get back to sleep.

Near dawn, he takes his surfboard out into the waves. They’re high, this morning. Not quite mavericks, or anything, but higher than usual for SoCal.

He paddles out into that deep, deep blue and sits, for a long while. He watches the sun rise and chase the blackness from the depths of the ocean, revealing the silver dart of small, wriggly fish.

When he finally takes it upon himself to catch a wave, his foot slips from the board. He tries to rebalance himself, to compensate, but he’s tumbling into the water before he can, wiping out in spectacular fashion.

He sinks down, down, toes briefly touching the spongy sand floor.

The sun is a silver-gray glow through the sea, filtered through the clouds and thick yellow smog, and in that moment before he rises back up, James screams.

He’s frustrated. He’s enraged.

He’s so fucking sad.

So he screams. And screams. And screams, until his lungs are flooded with salt water and he breaks the surface practically heaving.

He grabs onto his board, still lashed to his ankle. James hugs it close, treads water until he can catch his breath.

Why is everything going wrong? What is he supposed to do?

Everything is breaking.

James is breaking with it.

* * *

 

7\. _Rely On Your Friends_

“You,” Dak intones flatly. His feet are bare, sweatpants slung low on his hips, and he’s not wearing a shirt.

His abs are not as nice as James’s. James makes sure to check. Twice.

“Have some decency,” James replies. “Put some clothes on. Also, is Logan around?”

Dak grimaces. “Is that beer?”

James lifts the six pack in his left hand. The bottles clink brightly. “You’ve got a good eye.”

“You’re not bring that into my house.”

James wedges a foot between the door and the frame and asks innocently, “I’m not?”

“Logan’s studying, and you’re not distracting him with…empty carbs.”

“These are a study aid!” James retorts, and then he emphasizes his point by breezing past Dak into the foyer and calling, “Logan? Yoo hoo!”

Ten awkward seconds tick by, with Dak crossing his arms and glaring in a way that is distinctly mutinous. Then Logan’s head peeks over the bannister.

“James? Where’s Kendall?” He perks up. “Is that beer?”

James grins. Ten minutes later Logan’s situated on Dak’s furniture (infinitely plusher than what James and Kendall share), happily chugging back a beer. Dak is glaring all the while, and James is maybe doing a bit of a glower as well. Because somehow this is Logan’s fault, James thinks. Kendall just hasn’t been the same since Logan and Dak began jumping each other’s bones.

Which, agh, is not a visual James ever wanted or needed. Christ, he needs to scrub out his brain.

More so when Dak comes charging back down the stairs, clothed, yelling for Logan to, “Stop changing your name in my phone. Do you know how embarrassing it is to answer a call from the Lord and Master of My Ass? And no, I will not bring you apps, I’m not your maid!”

James snorts, despite himself and how deeply scarring that is. Logan laughs, loud and happy.

Dak’s not the worst guy, when he’s fully clothed.

It really is repulsive, knowing that he sometimes touches Logan’s dick. But like, not any weirder than knowing that Logan touches his own dick.

Logan’s really not a sexual creature, as far as James is concerned.

Anyway, more power to Dak for recognizing that Logan’s a rad guy, and being into that whole nerd vibe. James makes sure to tell Dak all of this out loud, but Dak doesn’t seem to appreciate it as much as he should. So James turns his attention to Logan, who is splayed across the couch like a starfish, a beer balanced carefully on his chest.

“I see this Doctor thing is going great.”

“Shut up. I think I’m going to become a motivational speaker instead. I’d be good at that.”

“Ooh,” James teases. “You’re burning out.”

“He’s fine,” Dak interjects.

“Sure.” James pops the top off of a beer and offers it to Dak. Predictably, Dak continues to glare. “Mmm. Keep him away from bongos.”

Logan flips James off. “Why are you even here?”

“Can’t a man want to visit his Bestie, old buddy, old pal?”

Logan tries to tilt his head and catch his beer bottle with his mouth. Instead, the whole thing tilts off his sternum, into Dak’s waiting hands. He passes the bottle back to Logan wordlessly.

Uck. They’re cute.

“One,” Logan holds up his index finger, once he’s got everything resituated. “No. Two, you’ve been crying.”

Scandalized, James replies, “I have not.”

“Your eyes are all red,” Dak points out. Logan shrugs his agreement.

“I’ve been surfing.”

“Kendall’s not with you.”

“Kendall and I aren’t actually attached at the hip.”

“Could have fooled me,” Dak mutters.

“You’re not helping,” Logan tells him. He grabs the beer and rights himself. “James, Kendall told me.”

 _About the kiss_? James wonders. Or about his plan to move in with some barista tramp who bears a passing resemblance to his ex and ruin everything they’ve built?

“About the fight,” Logan clarifies.

“Right. That.” James rubs his knuckles over his face. He’s tired. He always feels so tired lately. “He wants to move out.”

Surprise etches itself across Logan’s features. “Did he say that?”

“Didn’t have to,” James sneers. “His girlfriend told me.”

Logan nods, which means he knew about CJ, which makes James irrationally angry. “I didn’t even know he was dating someone.”

That, at least, gets to them. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” James does his very best not to sound put out, but he’s never been great at self-control. “Two days ago was the first I’d heard of her. She looks like Jo. Did you know she looks like Jo?”

“We’ve never met.”

There’s that. It’s the smallest of comforts, but James will take it.

“James,” Logan begins, taking a long swig from his beer. He’s got his eyes on the ceiling, his foot on Dak’s thigh. He’s trying to be nonchalant, which is Logan’s very favorite way to be when he’s feeling his bad-news-bears side.

James is tired. He wants Logan on his side. But history shows that’s rarely the case; Logan always sides with Kendall.

James totally would have gone to Carlos’s if he wasn’t off filming in the middle of nowhere.

“What?”

“If Kendall wants to move out, you can’t force him to stay.”

He shrugs, trying not to sound hurt. “If Kendall really wants to move out, the least he can do is man up and tell me himself.”

Dak nods, agreeing with James for once.

“Give him time. And space,” Logan advises. “He’ll talk to you, eventually.”

Logan’s not wrong. Kendall isn’t a coward.

But James hates waiting. And, “What do I do if he goes?”

James’s voice is low, rough, like he actually has been crying. It’s whispered confession in the form of a question, an admission that James isn’t ready to cut ties quite yet. Or ever.

Logan jerks up, nearly upending his beer again. Dak catches it like the patient, loving boyfriend he is. Narrow-eyed, Logan grabs his beer bottle back out of Dak’s hands and demands shrewdly, “Wait. What’s really going on?”

James tells him.

* * *

 

_8\. Make Your Own Rules_

James smokes now, sometimes, because everyone in Hollywood does; hiding in the shadows of their cars or their homes, avoiding the paparazzi flashes trying to catch them in the act.

It’s not a frequent habit, but it goes down often enough that Kendall has gotten used to it, that he’s not surprised or prepared with righteous indignation when he sees the lazy spiral of gray climbing up from their balcony.

Sometimes he’ll take a few puffs of his own; he says cigarettes make him feel dizzy, stars in his head and his lips in the exact place on the filter that James’s just left.

James ponders that. How many times in his life have they shared a smoke, a drink, a girl? Their mouths have chased after each other on too many occasions for him to count, and it’s normal, isn’t it?

That’s a normal thing that best friends do.

Except, like a lot of things that Kendall and James do, it’s not.

He takes a drag on the cigarette, smoke spiraling from his mouth up into the night sky. His place is far enough out of the city that the stars are visible here. They’re not desert-bright, not Minnesota-clear, but they’re a light imprint against the purple-black sky, salting the dusk more heavily the later the hour grows.

James is on his third cigarette and his second beer of the evening when Kendall makes an appearance, heralded by the turn of the key in the apartment door.

He’s been gone a week. James had no idea he was ever coming back.

Maybe he’s here to stop James from slowly destroying the temple that is his body. He has been going a little overboard on the self-destruction lately.

“Hi,” James says, when Kendall makes his way over to the sliding glass doors that lead to their balcony. “Here to get the rest of your stuff?”

He’s sitting in one of their metal and fabric beach chairs that they use year-round, too cheap to buy a real deck set. Wordlessly, Kendall settles himself down in the other one, grabbing a beer as he goes.

Optimus is spazzing out, jumping all over Kendall’s knees, trying to lick his face and the rim of the beer bottle simultaneously. Suspiciously, Kendall asks, “Have you been feeding him?”

“Yes,” James says gruffly, offended. “I’m not that negligent.”

“Okay,” Kendall replies, backing down immediately. “That’s not what I meant.”

More truthful than he’s been with Kendall for a while, James responds, “I have fuck all idea what you mean these days.”

Kendall sinks a little more soundly into his chair. “I saw you at the coffee shop yesterday.”

James’s lips thin into a line.

He was trying to be sneaky. He didn’t go in. He wanted to see if Kendall was alright. But it was a silly impulse. Kendall was fine, leaning on the counter, chatting with CJ like they weren’t a couple of little home wrecking bitches.

Ungraciously, James had thought that she was probably a better roommate than he is. She probably remembered to throw out old coffee grinds and actually dusted every once in a while.

Optimus wiggles his way into Kendall’s lap, and Kendall grins, stroking a hand across the dog’s squirmy head. He says, “I brought Middle Eastern. It’s on the counter.”

“I already ate,” James says. “Thanks.”

Kendall swallows whatever else he was going to say, toying with Optimus’s ear. The two of them watch the sway of a few ferns in the courtyard, the silhouette of the fountain. Then, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

He is.

About everything. Their fight, but also about the last six months of their lives.

They’ve been living in a shipwreck, grounded on the rocks but not quite smashed to pieces. They should have started talking about it a long time ago. James should have brought it up. For all his faults, he’s not a chicken. He’s brave.

He learned how to be from Kendall.

Kendall, who takes a deep breath and begins, “I never wanted to walk out on you like that. And I _never_ planned on moving out. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t going to. I just…I was figuring out how to let CJ down gently.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me? About her?”

“I didn’t want-“ Kendall does not finish the sentence, stopping and starting. “I didn’t intend to.”

James has an entire list of follow up questions, beginning with _oh, so we lie to each other now?_ But he bites his tongue instead of speaking. Kendall lashes out when he feels attacked, lashes out and clams up all his secrets deep inside him.

He’s already basically moved out. James doesn’t want to drive him even further away. Maybe they can salvage something of what they were.

“Now you don’t have to let her down,” James says, breathing heat into the neck of his beer bottle. He watches the dark glass fog up. Anything to avoid looking at Kendall.

“What? James. My plans haven’t changed. I’m not moving. Unless…you want me to?” That last bit is said meekly, but the words don’t get lost in the roll of the tide or the distant traffic sounds.

They’re crystal clear.

James snaps his gaze over to Kendall. “No. No, I don’t want you to fucking move out.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to figure your shit out, to get your life together and stop moping around, and making me feel like- like…” The cigarette has burned to the filter, singeing James’s fingers. He hisses and throws it on the concrete slab of a ground. “Like you could just up and leave all of this, any time you want to.”

“But why would I want to?” Kendall asks, knuckle deep in Optimus’s fur. He kicks one bare foot against James’s ankle, and James startles. He hadn’t noticed that Kendall slipped out of his Vans.

He really isn’t planning on leaving tonight. It makes James relax, however incrementally.

Mustering up his courage, he says, “You…you don’t seem to like me much, lately.”

Kendall laughs, and he sounds freer than he has in a while. “I like you more than I probably should.”

“I don’t believe that.” James curls his fingers around his own knee, digging at skin.

To his surprise, Kendall reaches out, twines their fingers together. He’s nervous when he says, “I kissed you, James.”

“I know. I kissed you, too. That was-“

Kendall’s grip tightens. “Don’t. Don’t say it was a mistake.”

“I wasn’t going to,” James replies. He squeezes Kendall’s hand, less scared, now. Wherever this is going, he thinks maybe it’s a good place. “It surprised me. But I wanted to do it again, before you left.”

And Kendall, idiotic, loyal, courageous Kendall, who James never thought was scared of anything, admits, “I was terrified. I thought you were never going to talk to me again.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. But it’s what I’ve been afraid of since we left Minnesota. That I’d mess up. That I’d ruin everything. You’re so stupidly gorgeous – do you even know what I want to do to you?”

“Minnesota,” James repeats. “We left years ago.”

“I know,” Kendall replies wryly. “I’ve got a lot of pent up frustration.”

James’s voice skyrockets to previously unknown pitch, “You mean we could have been fucking for _years_ now?”

“Hold your horses there.” Kendall is choking on laughter. “You have to buy me dinner first.”

“Oh, I’ve bought you a year and a half’s worth of dinners,” James retorts. “You never said anything!”

That dulls Kendall’s delight, a little.

Seriously, he says, “I didn’t think I liked guys, that way. I didn’t know how, or what, we could do, if anything. I’m – honestly, I’m still not entirely comfortable with it.”

James gets that. Kendall’s always been blessedly repressed. He’s got so many things to show him. Maybe he’ll start with handcuffs, and then they’ll ease into the kinkier stuff.

Kendall continues, “And I was positive that you didn’t feel that way about me.”

It’s a bit of a shock, considering that once he mentioned Minnesota, James began planning their sex date for their one-year anniversary. Accusatory, he responds, “You never gave me a chance.”

“That was wrong of me.” Kendall answers, steady as a rock. “I should have trusted you.”

He should have.

Because this isn’t anything like what James knew he could have. There are so many possibilities, an endless, thrilling rush of things he wants to do to Kendall, in bed and out of it, against the kitchen counter and in the living room, his car and maybe on his surfboard, too.

Not to mention that this opens up a whole wide world of Netflix options – it was always kind of gay when Kendall wanted to watch romcoms together, but it turns out, they’re both a lot gay.

For each other.

“You.” James’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Then, he knocks over his chair in his rush to get out of it, to swing himself into Kendall’s lap. Optimus leaps out between them with a yelp.

“Careful!” Kendall chides, hands settling on James’s hips. Those green eyes of his are dancing, dancing, like this is exactly how he hoped the night would go. “Have you really had dinner?”

“Nope,” James says. “But I’m not hungry, yet.”

“We can heat it up,” Kendall agrees.

He’s wearing a thick sweater, and somehow James has missed this; the heavy fabric and the feel of Kendall’s skin beneath it. Even if it’s not something he’s actually had before.

It feels right.

He rakes his fingertips over Kendall’s soft belly. Kendall hisses at the contact, cradles James’s face in his hands and forces him to stop moving, to meet his eyes. “Look. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. But I know I want to do it with you.”

“What about CJ?”

“I figured out how to let her down easy.” Kendall sounds rueful, because he hates being the bad guy. “We’re done.”

James asks, “Sure this isn’t all a ploy? You didn’t dump her for Mercedes?”

Kendall’s grin broadens. “ _Friends_ , James. It is possible to be friends with girls.”

He snorts. “You say that, but she gave you that magazine. She clearly wants to come between us.”

That’s not a bad idea, actually. He bets Mercedes would be a wildcat in a threesome. Eh. He should probably work Kendall up to that…And with someone not quite as scary.

“She gave me that magazine because she wanted me to have a heads up, in case. Well, in case. She…” Kendall ducks his head, uncharacteristically shy. “She’s starting a new label, on her own. She asked me to be her flagship act.”

Once upon a time, James would be jealous.

But he hasn’t told Kendall yet, hasn’t said. He landed his last audition. He’s going to be in a real movie, finally. A musical, at that.

“That’s amazing, dude.”

Kendall beams up at him. “It’s alright.”

Whatever James has felt between them over the last few months, the stress, the tension – it’s gone.

He rolls his hips against Kendall’s, to check that this isn’t all some kind of elaborate hoax. Kendall gasps a little and arches up towards him, and oh. They are going to have so much fun.

Kendall’s not quite begging when he demands, “Kiss me.”

But they’ll work up to that. Begging and pleading and taking Kendall to pieces. It’s a pretty picture that James is looking forward to enacting very, very much.

For now, obligingly, he covers Kendall’s mouth with his own.

The stars spin through the milky way, and Optimus yips around their feet. The waves crash up the coastline, and Kendall, tentative but willing, works a hand down James’s pants.

This, at last, is how they’re meant to be.

Kissing, kissing, breathless and dizzy.

In perfect harmony.


End file.
